praise for the superstition mysteries: Knock on Wood: “Features likable characters and an immersive plot to keep cozy fans turning the pages.” —Library Journal Lost Under a Ladder: “A town built around superstitions, a heroine looking for answers, and a murder. It’s your lucky day! Cross your fingers and tuck yourself into a cozy chair, you’re going to love this new series.” —Sparkle Abbey, bestselling author of the Pampered Pet Mysteries “Cross your fingers, grab a rabbit’s foot, and take a walk down Fate Street with a charming new sleuth.” —Connie Archer, bestselling author of the Soup Lover’s Mystery series “Rory Chasen comes to the town of Destiny with her dog, Pluckie, and gets her first taste of superstition—even though she’s a nonbeliever. She finds mystery and romance in this delightful tale by Linda O. Johnston. Thoroughly enjoyable!” —Joyce Lavene, bestselling author of the Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade Mysteries “A town called Destiny, superstitious residents, a broken mirror, and a lucky dog—the perfect setting for a mystery! Linda O. Johnston has created a fresh and clever world that you’ll want to visit again and again.” —Krista Davis, New York Times bestselling author of the Paws and Claws Mystery series
UNLUCKY CHARMS
other books by linda o. johnston pet rescue mysteries, berkley prime crime Beaglemania The More the Terrier Hounds Abound Oodles of Poodles Teacup Turbulence
kendra ballantyne, pet-sitter mysteries, berkley prime crime Sit, Stay, Slay Nothing to Fear but Ferrets Fine-Feathered Death Meow is for Murder The Fright of the Iguana Double Dog Dare Never Say Sty Howl Deadly Feline Fatale
harlequin nocturne Alpha Wolf Back to Life Alaskan Wolf Guardian Wolf Undercover Wolf Untamed Wolf Loyal Wolf Canadian Wolf
harlequin romantic suspense Undercover Soldier Covert Attraction Covert Alliance
superstition mysteries, midnight ink Lost Under a Ladder Knock on Wood
barkery & biscuits mysteries, midnight ink Bite the Biscuit To Catch a Treat
A SUPERSTITION MYSTERY
UNLUCKY CHARMS
LINDA O. JOHNSTON
Midnight Ink
woodbury, minnesota
Unlucky Charms: A Superstition Mystery © 2016 by Linda O. Johnston. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Midnight Ink, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Edition First Printing, 2016 Book format by Bob Gaul Cover design by Kevin R. Brown Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher-Dodge Midnight Ink, an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Johnston, Linda O., author. Title: Unlucky charms / Linda O. Johnston. Description: First edition. | Woodbury, Minnesota : Midnight Ink, [2016] | Series: A superstition mystery ; #3 Identifiers: LCCN 2016021612 (print) | LCCN 2016027310 (ebook) | ISBN 9780738745558 (softcover) | ISBN 9780738749075 () Subjects: LCSH: Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | Superstition—Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. Classification: LCC PS3610.O387 U55 2016 (print) | LCC PS3610.O387 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016021612 Midnight Ink Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd. 2143 Wooddale Drive Woodbury, MN 55125-2989 www.midnightinkbooks.com Printed in the United States of America
To all people who believe in superstitions, and to those who claim they don’t but follow one or two—or more—just in case. May you have lots of luck, and may all of it be good! And again, to my readers, particularly those who enjoy cozy mysteries with fun-to-write themes … like superstitions. Unlimited luck to all of you, too—and keep on reading! And as always, to my husband Fred.
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acknowledgments Repetitious? Perhaps. But definitely true! I again thank my wonderful agent Paige Wheeler as well as my delightful editor Terri Bischoff, great production editor Sandy Sullivan, amazing publicist Katie Mickschl, and all the other fantastic Midnight Ink folks—as well as the other MI authors who are all so wonderful and supportive. Thanks again, too, to those who read and critiqued and helped me polish the Unlucky Charms manuscript.
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ONE
This was far from my first “Black Dogs and Black Cats” presentation at the Break-a-Leg Theater. What was it—the eighth? Ninth? I’d lost count even though I gave these talks fairly often. Maybe because I was rather nervous this time. At the moment, my dog Pluckie and I stood off to one side of the dimly lit stage listening to the noisy crowd take their seats, waiting till it was time for us to walk out in front of them. The curtains, though partially pulled back, interfered with my ability to see anyone, which was probably a good thing. Why was I so edgy tonight? Had I actually become superstitious? After all, despite the pet superstition theme of my talk this evening, a lot of it was about me, personally. My ideas. My hopes to increase sales exponentially at the Lucky Dog Boutique, the very special shop I managed, even though the store was already doing just fine. Tonight I was going to talk about our newest products—superstition-related items for pets I had dreamed up and designed. I’d recently gotten a company to manufacture them for us. 1
Was this good luck? My shop had built up its reputation for canine delights long before I started working there, offering everything from plush black-cat toys and specialty dog foods to rhinestone-studded collars and leashes and amulets with smiling animal faces. Would it be bad luck to change or add to things that were already working? I, Rory Chasen, was about to find out. “What do you think, Pluckie?” I whispered to my dog. “This is kind of a business meeting, so you’ll give me lots of good luck tonight, right?” After all, black dogs were often said to be lucky, and black and white ones like my adorable spaniel-terrier mix were particularly lucky at business meetings. I’d learned that on my very first day here in Destiny, when Pluckie had pretty much saved the life of Martha Jallopia, the owner of the Lucky Dog Boutique, by finding her unconscious in the back room. Martha would be here tonight, too, sitting in her wheelchair near the front row as she always did for my presentations at the Destiny Welcome show. The angle was such that I couldn’t see that area, but she probably had already arrived. Pluckie now stood on her hind legs, her front paws on my thighs and her nose in the air, staring me straight in the eye for comfort. Reassurance. And lots of doggy love. She’d obviously heard me talking to her. I doubted she understood exactly what I said, but I knew she read my uneasy mood and was responding. “You’re right.” I bent down to grasp her in my arms and give her a big hug.
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That made me let go of the handle I was holding. At its end was the small black suitcase containing all the items I’d talk about and show off that night. My creations that represented what Destiny was all about. “Hi, Rory,” boomed a familiar voice from behind me. I turned. Mayor Bevin Dermot stood there, beaming. As usual, he wore what I considered to be his leprechaun outfit: dark pants with a dressy green jacket over them, adorned with a pin depicting—what else?—a leprechaun. He was chubby, and his hair and beard were both silver. “Hi, Bevin,” I said softly. I knew my expression must look quizzical. He had sometimes come to my talks but not always, and when he did, he generally sat in the audience. “Would you like me to introduce you tonight?” he asked. I didn’t really have time to ponder it. I saw Phil, a young guy who worked at the theater, gesture to me from across the stage. He apparently wanted to know if I was ready. Well, I was as ready as I was going to get that evening, so I nodded and waved. The stage lights got brighter, while the house lights dimmed. It was time for someone to go out there. And why shouldn’t it be the town’s mayor? His presence wouldn’t hurt my talk—or my shop’s sales. It was more likely to help both. “That would be wonderful,” I told him. “Thanks.” With no further ado, Bevin strode out to the microphone. He introduced himself first and got a loud round of applause. Then he introduced me. “You are about to hear from Rory Chasen, manager of one of our best local stores, the Lucky Dog Boutique. She’s a relative newcomer to our town, but she’s a real winner—and I hope she stays that way.” He crossed the fingers on his right hand and waved them in an arc before him. And then he turned toward me. “Rory?” 3
I smiled at him despite still feeling uneasy, and his compliment didn’t make me feel any better. Right now, my own creativity and ingenuity—and luck—were on the line. Maybe I had a right to be nervous. For reassurance and luck, I bent to pat Pluckie again. Then I stood, holding her leash in one hand and the handle of my bag on wheels in the other. I strode onto the stage, hoping I looked okay in the new black dress I’d bought at the Right Side Out clothing shop; I usually just wore a Lucky Dog T-shirt when I gave these talks. I wanted to reach up and check my straight blond hair, or at least fluff my bangs—but I did neither. I looked how I looked. I stopped at the microphone, which had already been adjusted to my height, and glanced briefly at the auditorium’s tall ceiling, ornate chandeliers, and plain walls that I assumed were the result of renovations in this lovely, aging place. “Thank you, Mayor Dermot,” I said with a smile I hoped appeared genuine. “And hi, everyone. I’m Rory Chasen, manager of the Lucky Dog Boutique, and, as our mayor said, a relatively new Destiny resident. I’m here to talk to you about animals and superstitions.” I managed to glance around at the audience as people began clapping, which made me all the more uncomfortable even though I wasn’t a shy and retiring person—or at least I hadn’t been before. Bevin clapped, too, as he backed off the stage, leaving me alone there with Pluckie. I hadn’t said anything special for the audience to acknowledge. Not yet, at least. But one of the most exuberant clappers was Martha, who indeed was in her wheelchair off to the side of the front row. One of my shop assistants, Millie Weedin, was with her, as I’d anticipated, sitting in the end seat. Off to the other side of the theater was my very
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good friend Gemma Grayfield, who’d followed me to Destiny and now lived here as well, managing the Broken Mirror Bookstore. I also noticed some fellow shop managers and owners, who gave talks now and then about their stores and luck-related products. One of them was Kiara Mardeer from the Heads-Up Penny Gift Shop. Her daughter, Jeri, another of my part-time assistants at the Lucky Dog, was with her. Brad Nereida, one of the owners of the Wish-on-a-Star children’s shop, was also there. I glanced around but didn’t see his wife, Lorraine. I recognized quite a few other people, but the audience was mostly composed of strangers who were probably tourists. But I was really only looking for one person: Justin Halbertson, chief of the Destiny Police Department. His presence, here and otherwise, was becoming very important to me. I didn’t see him, though. A good number of people filled the auditorium, so maybe I had somehow overlooked him—but I doubted it. As I continued to smile and look around, the clapping wound down. Time for me to dive into my speech. “As I said, I’m here tonight to talk about dogs and cats and other pets, as I generally do in my talks called ‘Black Dogs and Black Cats.’ I’ll bet you’re not surprised about that.” A few small laughs permeated the audience, but I didn’t wait to listen to them. “What I intend to mostly discuss tonight, however, is the store I currently manage here in Destiny, the Lucky Dog Boutique. Its owner, Martha Jallopia, is in the audience to listen to me and scold me if I don’t do a good job, so I’d better excel. Say hi, Martha.” I waved my arm toward her.
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My boss rose from her wheelchair, turned, and grinned. “You bet I’ll scold you if you blow this, Rory,” she yelled, and even though she didn’t have a microphone, I believed she was audible all over the room. “Hi, everyone.” “What Martha doesn’t know,” I said, speaking into the microphone in a loud whisper, “is that my intent tonight is to promote myself and my ideas for some very special products that I came up with to sell at the Lucky Dog—ones related to superstitions, of course—which I hope will provide the customers who buy them, and their pets, with good luck.” Part of what I said wasn’t true. Martha knew what my talk was about; we were good friends as well as business associates, and I had no intention of doing anything at the store without her knowledge and okay. We’d discussed this dramatic approach to introducing my new products, and she had been fine with it. I bent down and unzipped my bag, pulling back the top and extracting a few of the items—including my very favorite one. Once I was at the microphone again, I hugged all the objects to me except for my favorite, which I held in one hand and waved in the air. It was a white rabbit that resembled a children’s toy—somewhat large and stuffed, and sturdily made to resist tearing apart even when a dog chomped down and worried it. The materials were faux fur and other fabrics that would run through a dog’s system without causing harm in the event they were swallowed. I’d done careful research on the materials, even getting in touch with some of my contacts from when I’d been assistant manager at a MegaPets major chain store before moving to Destiny. They’d helped me to find the right manufacturer to put my new products together safely, although the labels encouraged owners not to allow the toys or their contents to be eaten. 6
The most fun thing about the toy rabbits was their link to Destiny and superstitions. Each had one disproportionately large and lucky rabbit’s foot! “Here we are,” I said. “This is Richy the Rabbit. He can be nearly any dog’s best friend, and he will eventually come in several sizes. And you know what?” I didn’t wait for anyone to respond. “He’ll bring both you and your dog lots of luck. That’s why he’s named Richy. His big rabbit’s foot will help you and your dog get rich with whatever it is that makes you feel that way. No guarantees, of course, but maybe that means money for you, or a better career. And treats for your best friend.” I paused, but only for a few seconds. Then I stuffed Richy into the arm that held the other toys and raised my right hand. I crossed my fingers and said into the microphone, “At least I, and everyone at the Lucky Dog, will cross our fingers to help ensure it.” At my words, Martha rose again, and this time both Millie and Jeri stood too, raising their arms and crossing their fingers. The audience laughed, cheered, and applauded. Most of the other toys I’d designed and manufactured so far also had lucky connotations, like … well, black dogs and black cats, deemed good luck in some cultures if not here, and ladybugs and woodpeckers, each with a smiley face. They had personalities. They were cartoonish. Many of them squeaked when squeezed. They were hopefully lucky for dogs and their humans alike. And they were potentially lucrative if they sold well. I’d even added a toy Dalmatian—a lucky black and white dog, of course. It had been one of my first ideas for a new dog toy when I’d started working at the Lucky Dog. I held each toy up individually and explained its superstitious significance and why I’d chosen that particular theme—which mostly had to do with providing good luck, or so truly superstitious people said. 7
I didn’t mention that I wasn’t sure if I was one of those people. I happened to remain a superstition agnostic. I’d come to Destiny to learn whether my dear fiancé Warren’s death had really occurred because he’d walked under a ladder just prior to being hit by a car, and I wound up staying for many reasons. But becoming a true believer wasn’t among those reasons. I continued my presentation for maybe another ten minutes, also describing some superstitions relating to dogs, particularly those who were black or black and white, like Pluckie. And I of course discussed black cats, who might be unfairly maligned when considered bad luck when they cross your path—or not. Eventually, I was done. I thanked everyone for coming and invited them all to visit the Lucky Dog—and perhaps buy some of the things I had shown off. I wasn’t surprised when Mayor Bevin wound up striding back onto the stage and retaking the microphone, thanking everyone for coming to Destiny and inviting them to visit all our shops and restaurants, take our tours, and just have a fantastic, superstitious, and lucky time here. While he talked, I wheeled my bag off to the side and put the toys back in, with Pluckie at my side. Then we exited the stage and went to the theater’s entry area to wait and greet the audience as they left. I was soon surrounded by people who thanked me and said how much they’d enjoyed my program. Some tourists promised to come visit my shop. Jostling the group nearest me aside, Flora Curtival was suddenly in front of me. “Great talk!” she said. I’d first met Flora about a month ago, when she’d stayed at the Rainbow Bed and Breakfast after arriving in town. She’d moved out
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a week or so later—into an apartment, I’d heard—after getting a job in real estate. Then she started approaching people she’d met in Destiny as potential clients, including me—which wasn’t a bad idea, since I’d finally started to seriously consider living someplace other than the Rainbow B&B. I liked the inn, but I’d now decided to stay in Destiny indefinitely. I’d even been the one who’d arranged for Gemma to manage the Broken Mirror. I wasn’t sure yet whether I wanted to buy a house or condo, or find a nice apartment to rent, but either way, I knew it would be fun to work out something where Gemma and I could be roommates. But not necessarily right this moment. Despite our interest in the town, we weren’t in a hurry to move. Flora was tall and thin. She dressed almost professionally, in a slender brown dress and heels I’d never dare donning without incurring a lot of bad luck for my legs and muscles. Her makeup was model perfect, and her short brown hair provided a nice frame to her attractive face. In short, she appeared to be someone who had something she hoped to sell to everyone she met. Which was fine with me, as long as she wasn’t too pushy about it. “Thanks,” I responded, then looked away as Gemma approached, along with the Lucky Dog contingent, including Millie pushing Martha in her chair. “So who’s up for a drink at the Clinking Glass Saloon tonight to celebrate Rory’s talk?” Gemma called. I wasn’t surprised when Jeri and her mother said yes, as did my good friend Carolyn Innes of the Buttons of Fortune shop and a couple of others, including Martha’s nephew Arlen, who I hadn’t noticed earlier.
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Flora said yes, too. Maybe she’d buy me a drink to cultivate my business. “It’ll be good luck,” I declared. “I’ll be there.”
10
T WO
It was mid-November, and tonight was cool—not as cold, of course, as in many parts of the country, but still noticeable to me, since I’d grown up in Pasadena. Destiny was just south of California’s Los Padres National Forest. The daytime temperatures here were fairly moderate, but it often got chilly at night, sometimes going down to the 30s or 40s. Even so, the weather was dry, so I had no problem sitting outside on the patio of the Clinking Glass Saloon to ensure that Pluckie would be welcome. In fact, I usually preferred the patio, since the bar inside was dark, often crowded, and always noisy. Since I generally came here to chat with friends, some of whom had dogs too, the outside area fulfilled my needs more. Now I was sitting at one of the small round tables under a patio heater, waiting for more people to join us before ordering drinks. Only Gemma was there with Pluckie and me so far. Despite the chill, it was crowded on the patio, and not only with people who’d been at my talk. Pluckie nestled down on the cement near my feet, snuggling up to me. 11
A lot of noise emanated from the bar inside, where some kind of ballgame—most likely football—was playing on the television. There were conversations out here, too, that ramped up the decibels, although not right next to us. “Great talk,” Gemma said, probably for the fifth time since we’d headed toward the saloon. If I was the kind of person who got jealous of women who were prettier than me, I’d have hated Gemma, but I’ve always liked her a lot. She’s lovely. She wears her brunette hair short, which helps to emphasize the dark loveliness of her cinnamon-brown eyes with their long lashes. She always seems to wear the perfect outfit for the occasion. Tonight it was a short and slinky beige dress with long sleeves. One sign that Gemma was a close friend was the fact that I hadn’t had to tell her before my speech that I was nervous. Nor did I have to tell her, now, that although my nervousness was not so acute, it hadn’t left me completely. Did people enjoy my talk? Would the new products I’d created sell well? Was I just acting superstitious, worried that saying something good about a thing would mean everything about it would turn bad? She knew me so well. Plus, not long ago, I’d helped to ensure that Gemma wasn’t arrested for a murder she hadn’t committed. That had helped to bolster our friendship even more. I could order a drink either at the patio or at the bar—and despite my talk being over, I needed one now. I glanced around. Some of the people Gemma had invited to join us were finally arriving— Jeri Mardeer and Kiara, Millie and Martha, and also Mayor Bevin and Brad Nereida. As long as we stayed out here and Millie didn’t order anything alcoholic, I believed she’d be allowed to stay, even
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though she was only twenty, not yet drinking age. They all found nearby tables and sat down under the heaters. Martha’s nephew Arlen arrived then too, as did Carolyn Innes. Most everyone stopped to say hi to Gemma and me, which I appreciated. Most also said something nice about my talk. Had Gemma told them I was nervous—or was it so apparent that everyone felt they had to compliment me? I supposed they could actually have enjoyed it … at least I hoped so. A few people I hadn’t noticed at the Destiny Welcome joined us as well, including Celia Vardox, who, with her brother Derek, owned the local newspaper, the Destiny Star. Would my talk and my new products be mentioned in the paper? Keeping my hand under the table, I crossed my fingers. No Justin, though. I’d managed to text him on our walk here, just a friendly invitation to join us. His response had come fairly quickly—that he was involved in a police matter but would get there as soon as he could. If he could, was what I read into it. But at least he hadn’t said no. I noticed a server entering the patio from the bar and motioned toward him. There were a bunch of other patrons out here, too, and I wasn’t sure our group was first on his list. Fortunately, the server saw my gesture and was at our table in seconds. I didn’t recognize him, although he wore the usual outfit here at the Clinking Glass: a white button-down shirt and a short white apron over his dark trousers. Most of the servers were men, but the women all wore something similar. I ordered a glass of wine, figuring I would most likely follow it up with a second one later. Maybe more.
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Was it my imagination, or did the group who had joined Gemma and me appear sort of quiet and not especially happy? Were they all just here to humor me? If so … well, I wasn’t close friends with all of them, only some. What was going on? As the server took Gemma’s order—also wine—I looked around. Carolyn had been standing at the table where Brad Nereida sat. He was maybe my age, and he and Lorraine had several children— which may have been why they ran the Wish-on-a-Star children’s shop. Was Lorraine’s absence a result of them being unable to get a sitter that night, or had Lorraine simply decided she wasn’t interested in my talk? If so, I wouldn’t hold it against her. But she and Brad had presented a couple of talks since I’d been in Destiny. I’d attended them out of friendliness and politeness, since I didn’t have children or any likelihood of children in the near future. Maybe I’d skip the next one. “Hey, Rory,” Carolyn said. “And Gemma.” She looked concerned, and her voice was so low I could barely hear her. Was something wrong? “Have you heard about—” She didn’t finish, just stared forward. I turned to see what she was looking at. No, who she was looking at. It was Justin, who’d come out the doorway from the bar to the patio. “Have we heard what?” Gemma prompted, as I’d have done if I hadn’t been staring at Justin. He’d joined us after all, and much sooner than I’d anticipated. My heart rate accelerated a bit, as if I’d just been touched by the best good luck symbol in Destiny—although I wasn’t sure what it might
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be. Maybe it was one of the toys I’d designed, which remained in the bag-on-wheels at my feet under the table. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” Carolyn finished. I looked at her and saw that her gaze remained on Justin. Whatever it was she had to say, she obviously didn’t want him to hear it. Why? Was bad luck involved? And did the fact I was even wondering such a thing mean I was really settling down as a Destiny resident, with superstitions edging their way into my sense of being? “Hi, ladies,” Justin said as he reached the table. His greeting took all of us in, but his eyes met mine before he looked around and smiled at Gemma, sitting beside me, and then at Carolyn, who’d taken the other seat. “Please join us,” Gemma said, preempting the same invitation I’d been about to issue. “Yes, please do.” I looked around and saw a few empty chairs at nearby tables. Justin did the same and went to fetch one. I used the brief opportunity to look at Carolyn. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly. “Someone’s stealing things and more,” she said, so fast and so quietly that I had to replay her words in my mind before they sank in. But as Justin pulled his chair up to the table—between Carolyn and me, as it turned out—and sat down, she just gave me a small smile, shrugged, and turned away. “So how have you been, Justin?” she asked. “I didn’t see you at Rory’s talk.” “No, unfortunately something came up and I wasn’t able to get there.” Justin was one good-looking guy. The hair on his head was thick and dark, and the dusting of facial hair at this hour emphasized it. He had gorgeous blue eyes and sharp, angular features, and a smile that
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generally made me feel happy—and more—in return. In fact, he was a very special guy to me. Inside, I kept apologizing to Warren, especially at times when Justin and I found ourselves getting close. Very close. As usual, instead of an official-looking uniform, he wore a light blue shirt over dark trousers. And, in keeping with Destiny tradition, he wore an amulet—a bronzed acorn, which meant good luck, and also supposedly kept the wearer young. Not that Justin, who at age thirty-five was only a year older than I was, needed the latter just yet. Right now, he was responding to Carolyn but looking at me, as if in apology. What could I do but accept it? Though I could still joke about it. “So you mean that a case was so important to the Destiny police chief that you had to work instead of coming to hear me speak?” I punctuated the words with a scowl that I purposely made look false. Of course he had stuff come up that was important—a lot more important to him than I was. I got it. I only hoped that this time it wasn’t another murder. There had been a couple in Destiny since my arrival, which had only been about five months ago. “Yep, that happens sometimes, no matter what I’d rather do.” He kept his voice light, but I did see what appeared to be regret in his eyes. That made me feel a little better. “Well, see that it doesn’t happen again,” I said lightly. Then it dawned on me. Carolyn had mentioned some sort of a theft. Justin had had to work. Could these things be related? Apparently, neither was going to give more detail about what was on their minds, so I’d have to wait and ask them separately, later. I felt confident that Carolyn would continue with what she’d been about to say. With Justin, though, he might be bound up in some
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kind of confidentiality requirement, so I might never learn what had kept him away from my talk. Well, he was here now, at least. And I was glad. “So how did your presentation go?” he asked, but before I could start describing it our server came over. I got my wine, as did Gemma. Carolyn received her beer, and Justin ordered a Scotch and soda. When the server left, I raised my glass, as did the other women at the table. “Time to clink glasses for luck here at the Clinking Glass Saloon,” I quipped. Or it would have been a quip, anywhere but in Destiny. We all toasted, and then I took a sip of a delightfully dry Cabernet and smiled. “I think it all went fine,” I finally said, in response to Justin. “Ladies?” Both Gemma and Carolyn began expounding on how well I’d done—not that I’d expected them to do otherwise. But they both genuinely had nice things to say, not only about my presentation but also about the new doggy toys I’d introduced. “I’ll have to get some of those for Killer,” Justin said with a smile when they were through. “You’ll need to recommend which ones would be best for a Doberman.” “I think any of them would be fine,” I said. “I designed them to be strong and safe enough for any dog, and Killer—despite his name—is one sweet pup.” “I’ll drink to that.” Justin raised a glass that was imaginary, but only for a minute since our server returned just then with his drink. I took another healthy sip of my wine. “To Killer. And Pluckie.” My dog, lying near my chair, sat up at hearing her name. “And to your toys and talk,” Justin added. All of us drank to that.
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I pondered for a second what to say that everyone at the table would be interested in—despite my desire to quiz Justin about whatever he’d been involved with during my talk. Before I said anything, though, I noticed a couple of people approaching our table: Flora Curtival and her boss, Brie Timons, who was the owner of Rising Moon Realty. I’d learned that the company’s name was based on the idea that it’s good luck to move into a new home when the moon is waxing, not waning. “Hi, Rory, Gemma,” Brie said. She appeared fiftyish and wore pantsuits rather than dresses, but she always appeared professional despite how untamed her graying-black hair looked. “Carolyn and Justin, too. Do you know everyone here?” She turned toward Flora, at her side. “Sorry, no.” Flora seemed quite pleased by Brie’s introduction to Justin and Carolyn. And why not? Real estate agents lived to know people—and relocate them, with generous commissions, into new homes, condos, and apartments. Not a bad way to make a living. “Flora and I have been talking over some ideas I had,” Brie was saying. Justin had risen and moved around the patio till he found a couple of now-rare empty chairs and brought them back so that the real estate ladies could sit down and join us. “That’s good.” I tried to keep the dubiousness out of my voice. “We’re really here for two reasons,” Flora said. She was sitting on Justin’s other side, and I had to look past his buff body to see her. “Good reasons,” she continued, and her face lit up with an enormous smile. “What reasons?” I asked, as I knew I was supposed to. “Flora just closed a deal with one of our clients today to buy a house in a nice area east of town,” Brie said, also grinning. “She did
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it this morning so she could go to your talk later. I helped with the paperwork this afternoon.” “Thanks,” I said, again realizing what was expected. “And the second reason?” “Well, it’s connected to the first one,” Flora said. “Now that this deal has been completed, I can concentrate more on finding the two of you the ideal living situation. Isn’t that great?” “Sure,” said Gemma, although her smile indicated that she felt as hesitant as I did. “Right,” I said. “I’m interested, but I’ve got a lot going on, and I don’t want to take on additional pressures.” “I understand,” Brie said. “But I’m sure Flora will find you something perfect.” She was sure? I wasn’t. On the other hand, I knew I was staying in Destiny. And I’d been living in the B&B long enough. And I could always say no to whatever she showed me. So could Gemma. I looked toward Flora and caught Justin’s eye. There was something unreadable in his gaze. Was he glad about what I’d said? Sorry? Off in his own world, considering whatever had kept him from attending my presentation? “Okay, maybe,” I said. “As long as we have good luck in this situation”—as always these days, I feigned like I really bought into superstitions—“let’s give it a try.”
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Mystery
When a Real Estate Agent Pushes Her Luck, the Town of Destiny Pushes Back Rory Chasen, manager of the Lucky Dog Boutique in Destiny, California, hopes her new line of good-luck doggy toys will be a hit, especially the stuffed rabbits with extra-large feet. The timing of the line’s debut proves ill-fated, though, as several local shops—including Rory’s—are ransacked and vandalized with spilled salt and other unlucky charms. The most likely culprit is disgruntled real estate agent Flora Curtival, whose issues with the town give her a motive. But after Flora is murdered and one of Rory’s toy rabbits is found with the body, Rory needs all the luck she can get while trying to determine just who killed the superstitious vandal. Praise for the Superstition Mysteries: “Doggone cute.”—Library Journal “Johnston continues to offer fans awesome tales that provide complete entertainment . . . this tale is a definite standout.” —Suspense Magazine $14.99 US / $17.50 CAN
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